


The Spider Who Shagged Me

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Pre-Earth Transformers, Sexual Content, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a scout/spy mission in Kaon, Bumblebee finds himself in an exclusive night club for the still-wealthy of the Decepticons. He also finds himself lost in Airachnid's chestplates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In terms of ideas this is an incredibly old thing that I just never got around to actually writing. Recently though I've been motivated to just get on with it, cause I just couldn't let a title like that go to waste.  
> This is set before the incident at Tyger Pax, so Bumblebee still has function of his vocaliser. The next chapter will be the one that introduces Airachnid (and Starscream), and the third one will bring Bee and Airachnid together.

As far as Bumblebee was concerned, it was an easy enough scout and spy job. The fact that he would be sent into the heart of Kaon with only his fake Decepticon insignia and blasters to protect himself hardly phased him- it was better than lying in Iacon all day, watching the day pass from barricades all over the city and having to file permission forms with Prowl to even have the liberty of scratching your aft.  


In Kaon, not even Megatron could enforce rules on its residents. As the Decepticon capital almost every bot inside the walls was under his command in some way, but they hardly adhered to any military discipline or hierarchy. Occasionally an officer would have to descend from Darkmount to stop a drunken brawl in the streets turning bloody, but other than that they only walked the streets when they were off duty. Rules had no meaning in Kaon, where the Council had left bots to live and die as they saw fit, and not even planet-wide war was going to change that.  


In short, that meant the city’s streets were hives of vice and pleasure. The sky was only just starting to darken, but already they were alive with half-buzzed mechs and femmes lounging on the corners with more protoform than armour. Bumblebee recalled Jazz once saying that if you stared too long at them they could charge you just for that, so he tried to keep his optics busy. He knew it was hard enough for Optimus to smuggle him into the city in the first place, and he was on a mission after all. See how the Decepticons trained, how they fought, where they got their weaponry.  


And maybe take advantage of their high-grade and pleasure femmes.  


A mech with black armour splattered with spilt high-grade stumbled in front of him, and he almost fell himself trying to avoid him. Another stubbed a cyberette out on a lamp post and threw the remains in his direction, and more than one femme blew him kisses from across the roads. Bumblebee had to keep telling himself that this was how all Decepticons acted, even to their brethren. They’d never find out he was an Autobot, not as long as he just blended in. But the faux symbol on his chest was burning, threatening to peel away and reveal the true Autobot one underneath, and the credit chips in his subspace were heavy as lead. He was supposed to spend it on Decepticon weaponry for Chromia and Ironhide to study, or to get into any exclusive areas of the city, but Bee had never been a responsible spender even before the war. He knew the stash would be gone like mist by the morning no matter how carefully he counted each chip, and he couldn’t help but clutch his subspace when he had to walk past buildings bedecked in gold garlands and shining neon. At one club the security drones glared at him and anyone else who got too close to the barricades, with only a small trickle of bots being allowed in.  
Bee would have ignored it and just kept on his way if not for the Decepticon insignia brazenly seared onto the doors. Even in Iacon the Autobot symbol was rarely seen anywhere but on soldiers themselves, and the fact that Megatron was so confident of his hold on Kaon that he flaunted his own gathering spots was something Bee could practically hear Prowl having a processor meltdown over.  


Of course, it could just be a designated club for Decepticon officers only, but the only ones allowed in boasted armour that would have crumbled under a single ping from a micro-round. They were plainly for dress and showing off rather than going out into battle in, and Bumblebee had a hard time imagining any Decepticon who would even take their protection off in an oil bath.  


So, if it wasn’t a place for soldiers but it still bared the Decepticon symbol, then it counted as ‘suspicious’. That meant he had to find a way in, hope weapons were banned inside and get out before he flooded the place with coolant.  
He kept walking past the club, only allowing himself as much curiosity as the average Kaon streetwalker would give. He thought he saw a gap in a line of abandoned buildings beside it, and creeping down it confirmed that it was an alleyway leading to a wide open space at the side of the club.  


With a hulking mass of security drone right outside the door.  


“Scrap...” Bumblebee pulled back and crouched at the corner of wall just inches from where the drone stood, tapping claws on the barrel of his plasma pistol. He contemplated luring it away or trying to bluff his way in when a mech drunker than a Scraplet trapped in a high-grade vat stumbled out and purged his tanks all over the alley floor. The drone kept its gaze averted; Bumblebee could practically see it cringing even with the visor. The mech coughed up the last dregs of half-processed energon and wiped his mouth, but when he turned to head back inside he stumbled and sprawled in his own purging. The drone shuddered as it knelt to help him up, his back to Bumblebee and pistol abandoned by his attention.  


The drunken spluttering of the mech was enough to cover Bee’s pedsteps, and the drone never heard him approaching before it crumpled to the floor as his elbow connected with its helm. The mech- of soiled silver and purple armour, Bee noticed- barely registered the Autobot before him as he tried to sit up. Bee knelt down to retrieve the drone’s pistol (a bot could never be too careful) and moved to the door, inching it open to make sure no other guards were stationed inside.  


The dim pink hallway ahead was deserted, but as Bumblebee slipped through the doorway he realised his mission was more difficult now. He was in the club, but it was only a matter of time before the drone was discovered or came back online, or before the mech sobered up and realized what he saw.  


He really hated time limits.  


“One too many rockshots, huh?” Bumblebee froze at a femme voice coming from his side, but when he turned toward her there wasn’t a gun barrel aimed at his faceplate. She was a Seeker build, with purple and teal armour and a mischievous smirk on her faceplate. Her red optics were focused on his chestplate, and looking down he only just saw the traces of purged energon streaking the gold of his armour. He pushed aside thoughts of the ridicule he’d face from Sunstreaker if he returned to Iacon ( _when_ , not if) and tried to match her expression.  


“Yeah, you always think you’ll just have one and then...” He shrugged his shoulders with a nervous laugh, hoping the femme didn’t notice the coolant beading across his forehelm. She only raised an eyeridge and placed a hand on her hip.  


“You tried the Sigma Slugfest yet? _That_ will make your systems crash from just one sip.”  


“I’ll... see if I have the credits for a glass.” The femme huffed a laugh and departed with a wink at him. Bumblebee only let his vents go when she was well out of sight, and wiped his helm thoroughly before heading into the den of neon sin ahead of him.  



	2. Chapter 2

Starscream was not fond of Kaon. It had none of Vos’ cultural integrity or simple beauty; no statues or murals or fountains of cleanser, or even an archive house to be seen for miles. The closest thing to ‘culture’ the wasteland city had was the remains of a smutty theatre just across the road of where he was stationed this loud and lonely night. It _shouldn’t_ have been lonely- Megatron had said he was being assigned a partner for the mission and there were femmes all around him (as well as mechs who kept mistaking him for one and trying to buy him high-grade), yet still he felt isolated amongst the dreary drunkards as they swilled and stumbled everywhere. Starscream pined for the sky bars of his home city; for premium Aerogon and the soothing roar of Seeker engines roaring past the open doors. 

He also pined for some Primus-forsaken peace and quiet, but that was relatable to finding a pleasure bot in a clergy house.   
Of course, Megatron never mentioned his mission would have him assigned at a glorified strip club, which would have been a dream brought to life for any mech fresh from the Well. But Starscream knew full well what would happen if he allowed himself to be distracted- one of his own trine members was almost castrated when he accepted a lap dance from some Praxian femme when he was supposed to be searching for Autobots in the city. As such, he tried to keep his optics in his glass and away from the stage right in front of him, tuning his audios out from the wolf whistles and cheers from the more fortunate mechs surrounding him. His partner should have arrived by now, flashing a signal with their digits to let him know of their officer status. 

He was much too like his poor trine mate though, and eventually one femme almost made his helm pop off from how fast it turned to catch sight of her. 

Her frame was the first thing he and any other mech would have noticed about her. It had the same svelte gracefulness as any other bot in her profession, but her curves (as delicious as they were) were far out-shadowed by the menacing arches of metal jutting from her back. Two were arranged in a similar fashion to Seeker wings, while the other four hovered over her hips as they swayed down the stage catwalk. Her optics were the second most mystifying thing; violet spotlights that gave the impression of scanning a mech down to his barest protoform whenever she looked at one. When they locked onto Starscream’s his processor lagged suddenly, and she was already on the pole by the time he’d broken away from her trance. 

Strangely enough, her additional legs became beautiful things when they assisted her in spinning and twirling to the applause and raining credits of her spectators. The purple of her protoform shone with coolant in the streaming spotlights above and her chestplates heaved when she thrust them forwards. Starscream was drooling in his glass and he didn’t even notice until it started overflowing in his hand. Even so, he only glanced away long enough as was needed to shake his claws dry. 

But when he looked back, something other than flashes of bare protoform caught his attention. The femme’s golden claws were wrapped around the pole, but one set dangled at her side and crossed over themselves in a very specific way. 

Megatron had shown him that very same signal at Darkmount during the mission briefing. He had been ogling his mission partner the entire time he’d been waiting for her, and her dance ended just as his faceplate stopped burning so fiercely. She looked back on the crowd as she walked back to the thick curtain backdrop of the stage, finding Star’s optics again and jerking her helm slightly in a summoning motion before disappearing through the curtain gap. 

The Seeker’s spark simmered in its chamber and he needed another glass of high-grade, no matter how poor it was, before he could face her. The security drones didn’t challenge him as he walked through the backstage entrance; Decepticon officers like him didn’t need ID. 

He wasn’t five nanoklicks through the doors before a purr stopped him short. “I thought you’d be taller.” Turning to face the source brought him face-to-face with familiar pink optics.

“And I thought _you_ would try to be inconspicuous.” The optics fluttered at the stutter of his vocaliser as she shrugged.

“What can I say, I like the attention. You can learn a lot from a mech when he’s busy staring at your chestplates.” She turned away before he could protest against the accusation in her tone, and he had no choice but to follow her past the line of other femmes preparing themselves for their own shows. Each wink they threw towards Starscream made him almost fall over his own heels, and he all but stumbled like a common drunkard into his partner’s dressing room. 

She had disappeared behind a large screen; Starscream assumed she was changing her armour and wiping the coolant from her frame. He took in the lushness of her quarters, the lounge sofa at the center with less comfortable looking chairs arranged around it. He knew which one would be hers and awkwardly seated himself on a different one just as she re-emerged in a light dressing gown. A glass of bubbled, pale gold high-grade was in her hand while the other draped backwards over the top of the lounge when she settled into it, and she watched him as she sipped. Somehow her optics here were even more intense than her stage gaze. 

“You know our assignment?” Even away from the crowds her voice was a sultry ballad to his audios. 

“I know everything except your designation.” She chuckled at that and set her glass down on the table. 

“Airachnid. Most mechs can recognize me from just my aft, so I assume you don’t come to Kaon often.”

“I-I wasn’t aware we recruited from... places like this.” Starscream shrunk into the frame of his chair, almost tucking his helm into his chest. He was never very good at speaking to femmes. 

“You didn’t seem to mind being _forced_ to watch,” Airachnid pointed out with a smirk. “Besides, this is hardly all I do for the Decepticons.” She plucked her glass back up and tipped its contents back past her lips. “I hunt Autobots as well, torture them for information. You’d be surprised how similar energon splattering against your armour is to transfluid-“

“You’ve made your point,” Starscream cut her off with a grimace, unaware of how her smirk grew along with his discomfort. “Can we move on to our mission?”

“Oh, you Seekers are so insistent on getting business done.” Airachnid rolled her optics and leaned forward with her legs crossed over. “You’re aware of the potential spy within the city?”

Starscream nodded. “Arrived through the north former Underworld gate, with a fake Decepticon insignia. We can assume they’re a scout-class, recently recruited so we won’t recognise them from previous battles.”

“If they’re a mech then it’s also safe to assume they’ll be drawn to ‘places like this’.” She motioned a servo around her with a raised eyeridge at him. “This club in particular would be a lucrative target due to its clear affiliation with our faction, which is why you’re here with me. You will help me pick out any suspicious bots, and if needed stop them from slipping away.” 

“And why am I needed specifically?” Starscream hadn’t bothered asking Megatron during the primary briefing, preferring not to suffer a bash to the helm for ‘wasting time’. “Everyone knows I’m a Decepticon officer; why not some Vehicon drone, or a sniper elite mech?”

“Your high status in the Decepticons is precisely why you’re needed,” Airachnid explained. “If the spy sees you’re here, then they’ll be convinced that this place is a hoard of enemy data. That will give them cause to linger for as long as possible, which in turn will allow us to formulate a plan of capturing them.” Abruptly she rose to her peds and walked towards a wall of closed drapes, tugging them open slightly. Starscream looked through the gap and saw the floor of the club heaving with bots; mechs shoving for space near the stage and the bar stool he’d sat at barely half a breem ago now groaned under the weight of a bulky triple changer and the orange femme seated in his lap. 

“While your attention was otherwise _occupied_ , I spotted one mech who might fit our description. You see that yellow one by the bar?” She pointed a claw in his direction, and Starscream quickly found him amongst the usual grey and violet paint jobs of the milling Kaonites around him. 

“His back was turned to me the entire time, but he hardly drank from his glass. There was nothing distracting him from drinking, so he must have wanted to stay alert. And he kept checking his wrist, which meant he either had a paint scratch there or some sort of communication panel.”

“A set up commonly used by Autobot scouts,” Starscream commented, remembering how Knockout would go on about how all the ‘Bots he dissected had such similar (and primitive) built-in comm arrays.

“Exactly.” She jerked the curtains closed again. “I’m going down there again. You should leave five klicks after me, so he doesn’t think I’m connected with you. Make sure he sees you at least once, and look like you’re planning something, like he would have cause to investigate you.”

“That won’t be a challenge, I assure you.” 

Airachnid smiled for the first time that evening. “Then let’s get to work.”


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Bumblebee noticed was, other than the mech passed out and slumped against the wall, was the pair of bare chestplates thrust out in the glare of a stage spotlight. Safe to say, with the war keeping everyone busy he hadn’t had much time to indulge his adolescent instincts, so it was well over five klicks before he managed to tear his optics from the coolant-drenched protoform on display. Even when he kept his optics down his codpiece thudded with every quick step he took towards the bar. The server, a bulky blue mech more suited to being behind a tank line than a counter, barely looked him over as he collapsed into a stool.

“What’ll you have, bot?” For a split-nanoklick Bumblebee thought his cover was blown before he’d even started, before he remembered ‘bot’ being a general term for any Cybertronian.

“A... S-Sigma Slugfest.” With his spark still pounding he stuttered the only thing he knew- Iacon didn’t boast much in the way of bars, and what little it had only served diluted standard high-grade and oil. With his helm buried in his hand he didn’t see how the blue mech crooked an eyeridge and looked at him as if he just ordered a raw Insecticon egg. Bumblebee heard a glass sliding along the bartop and blindly reached for it as he focused his attention on the countless crimes against civility surrounding him (okay, he was far from innocent in terms of most Autobots, but Kaon’s debauchery would have made even Wheeljack grimace). 

He sipped without looking, and immediately regretted it as his glossa was flooded with something like a cross between factory fumes, brothel air and stale coolant. In other words, it tasted like something a Sharkticon would spit out. But even as he spluttered into his glass he knew he was being watched on all sides, so all he could do was gulp the stuff down as quick as possible and try not to gag in the process. He slid his faceguard down as soon as he finished, sliding the glass back and pushing off from the bar as his mouth grimaced at the aftertaste stained on his tongue. At least it gave his processor the kick it needed and left some sour warmth in his energon lines.

Now left at the mercy of the audience Bumblebee found himself pushed closer to the stages where he’d seen the femme performing and almost overloaded in his codpiece. It was empty spotlight now, but knowing Kaon the next would just be readying herself as the gathered mechs were loosening their credit stores for her. 

He had to remember that he wasn’t one of them, and Prowl would throw him to the turbofoxes if he found out he’d spent his undercover allowance on getting a glimpse at Decepticon valves. 

He had a mission. Get in, get info, get out. And he had just motivated himself to get on with step two when the second dancer of the night made her appearance. 

The first thing most mechs noticed about her was her optics- pink, nothing naturally seen before in Cybertronians. How they fluttered around the room and seemed to make love with just a fleeting glance. 

Then they usually noticed the knife sticking out of their back through their spark chambers, but her evening patrons didn’t need to know about that. 

Bumblebee was especially enchanted by the glittering strands covering what stuck out from her back, shoving his way to the front of the stage in a sea of whistling mechs. They reminded him of Insecticon wings, which was something of a grim thought, but the view of the legs walking towards him quickly dispelled it. 

His optics were glued to her hips as they swayed, following each movement intently as if he was studying an ancient relic. Halfway down the catwalk she dropped to her servos and knees, slinking like a mischievous animal. Bumblebee was half tempted to leap up himself and crawl towards her. His jaw was slack, oral fluid pooling behind his faceguard, and his optics almost popped from their sockets as her chestplates filled his field of vision. Her servos and the sparse armour covering them pushed them both together, and her glossa glided languidly over her lips while she jiggled them in his faceplate. All he saw next was his hand stuffing a wad of credit chips in between her plates, and a wink that almost made his codpiece split open before she flipped to her peds again and returned to her usual place at the front of the stage. 

Now, at this point, the Sigma Slugfest Bumblebee had so carelessly downed had made an unfortunate retaliation against his spike. He didn’t know the real reason why the sludge was so popular for mechs in places like this, but with his codpiece about to break in half he had a good idea of what it was now. 

At least with the femme not so close to the audience it wasn’t so difficult to wade through the sea of mechs to the unconventional sanctuary of a pillar at the edge of the club floor. He collapsed against it in a panting puddle of burning arousal and exhaustion- coolant was starting to bead on his faceplate, and every two nanokliks he had to wipe the drops away as he tried to regulate his heaving air vents. What he really needed was half a breem in somewhere empty and cold, with just his servos and imagination to get rid of the aching throb of his codpiece (an actual femme would have been ideal, but Bumblebee tried to be realistic). He couldn’t concentrate with his mind on his spike- Pit, he could barely even walk. Just a few klicks of fragging privacy was all he needed, Primus willing...

“Someone’s in a hurry to get away.” At the sudden sound of spoken silk weaving through his audios Bumblebee almost jumped and jolted his head off the pillar at his back. If he did he might not have recognised the chiseled legs and tapping heels of the femme he almost overloaded over- at least at first. She wasn’t exactly hard to forget. 

Her violet optics glowed amusement down at his sprawled frame as he attempted- unsuccessfully- to stumble upright, only managing to squirm against the pillar with one hand keeping his codpiece clamped closed. 

“Just... just getting some more high grade,” he said in a cough to cover up the humiliating squeak and crackle of his vocaliser.  
She raised a thin eyeridge down at him. “Not sure you’ll find much on the floor, darling.” Digits fanned out in his vision, golden claws that looked more suited to dismembering a mech than undressing him. Even so, Bumblebee let them help him to his shaking peds. She watched him with a veiled curiosity as he doubled over, still trying to reign in his heavy gasps. On the edges of his lowered faceplate he saw other optics pointed towards him from all around, but he knew most were only interested in his companion. “No matter,” she went on. “I can have some brought to us in the VIB suite.”

“VIB... what?” He straightened his spinal strut, looking at her in confusion as her optics fluttered with something both seductive and secretive between the lids. She’d also started pushing her chestplates together again, making Bumblebee wonder if his credits were still stuck between them (and then making him regret the thought as his codpiece thudded hard against his grip). 

“’Very Important Bot’ suite,” she explained, sliding closer to him and pressing against his body. He prayed that she couldn’t feel it trembling. “You paid me- quite generously as well. That means you get a little while of luxury and my company...” A golden talon stroked along a shoulderplate, almost blending into the yellow of his own armour. “Would you like that, baby?” Her voice was nothing more than a rolling purr, but Bumblebee heard it clear as a solstice day with her lips so close to his. He gulped. 

“Very... very much.” Plum lips twitched upwards in a pleased smirk as she savored his stutter. 

“Good boy. Follow me.” She pulled away so suddenly that Bumblebee almost fell flat on his aft all over again, but once he recovered he obeyed and trailed after her like a leashed Scraplet. He had to remind himself that it was all for the mission to stop himself drooling over what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

"It'd be rude of me to take you to paradise without knowing your name, sweetspark."

At this point Bumblebee could have cared less about manners, but he almost forgot he had a possible Decepticon dragging him to what would either be his dream come true or his death come early. 

And it certainly _would_ have come much earlier, if he hadn't stopped himself from making the one mistake that turned most rookie spies into molten metal puddles on the floor. 

"B-B... uh, Goldbug!" Only a drone would have been dumb enough to use its real designation while undercover, but Bumblebee only just managed to save himself from blowing the whole operation at the last klick. 

Either the music muffled his stutter or the femme thought it was just his nerves frazzling his vocaliser, as she didn't ask him any further about it. "Call me Airachnid," she said over her shoulder, clicking her peculiar back legs together as she spoke. Bumblebee had to fight the urge to touch them, to see if they were actually attached to her or just some elaborate part of her costume. He was hoping for the latter, since he could only imagine how much they'd get in the way of their time together. 

"So... how long you been here for, Airachnid?" He figured he might as well do some spying that didn't amount to just ogling her aft. 

"Oh, a long while, baby. You were probably still a sparkling when I first got up on that pole." Her tone was devoid of anything suspicious, but Bee still felt a kind of wariness creeping into his processor, trudging through the effects of his drinking and arousal. A veteran worker in a Decepticon club... if she was still here after so long, then she must have some part in their operations. Suddenly Bee was less eager to follow this femme into the even darker corners of Con territory. 

But he'd have trouble slipping out and keeping his interface closed at the same time.

"You having trouble keeping that thing on?" Airachnid looked back and glanced between his legs before flicking back up to his faceplate. He nodded, trying to keep optic-contact when her fangs poked over her lips in a smirk. 

"Don't worry, you won't need it in here." Bee hadn't even noticed the opening in the wall Airachnid motioned to, covered with red draping that managed to blend in with the dimness of the club. There was no security, not even a password needed to get in. At least it wouldn't be hard to get out if the worst happened. 

With that confidence boost still fresh in his mind, Bumblebee pushed past the curtains, shivering slightly as they brushed his armour and taking a moment for his optics to adjust to the sudden bloom of red lighting that greeted him. The VIB suite was small, but lavishly furnished; each wall lined with plush seats and tables here and there to put glasses on. Some seats had holoscreens above them, but they were blank for now. Bee made himself comfortable on the nearest lounge, just a few peds away from the makeshift door, as he waited for Airachnid to join him.

Her own entrance was far more elegant, claws pushing the curtains aside and holding them apart to frame her body. Obviously she'd had a lot of practice with perfecting her effortless grace, and despite everything Bumblebee felt his vents hitch in awe as he found himself seeing her for the first time all over again. 

Just before the carmine walls swept back down over her though, Bee spotted a faceplate in the crowd of patrons, one only a carrier could love- one that had witnessed the deaths of countless of his friends and grinned all the while. Starscream was in the building.

Needless to say, it ruined the mood somewhat. 

"Is something wrong, sweetspark?" Bumblebee was so focused on the imprint left by the sleazy glare of Starscream's optics that he didn't even notice Airachnid gliding over to his lap, scratching a claw under his chin. Her other hand was positioned at his hip, while her knee inched between his spread legs to push them even further apart. 

"Just... just a little thirsty, is all." Something was definitely making his vocaliser jam and croak, but he wasn't sure if it was just a lack of something to drink (and the still-throbbing effects of the Sigma Slugfest had put him off anything that wasn't straight out of a sterilisation plant). 

"I'll get something to refresh us then." Airachnid's purr and touch lingered long after she slipped over to the minibar at the other side of the room, using her back legs expertly to pour two glasses to the brim with a clear yellow fluid. 

"A little blend they call 'Galactica', specially imported from Caminus."

"I thought all the spaceports were closed cause of the war?" Bumblebee tried to look more curious than suspicious at the bubbling flute as she handed it to him, and tried harder not to drop it when he felt her claws brush his digits. 

"Well, there are perks to having the right connections." She winked before delicately sipping from her own glass, fangs gently _clinking_ against it. Bumblebee tried not to think of the very high possibility of his own one being poisoned as he tipped it back into his mouth, drinking just enough to keep him sober. 

"Connections... like the Decepticons?" he asked with just the right touch of casualness. Whether or not she was actually involved with them, if she thought he was a neutral trying to find a way onto the other side she might be more open than with a random stranger who'd just paid his way past her interface panel. 

Airachnid licked at her glossy lips and raised an eyeridge. "Nosy little boy, aren't you, Goldie?" She smirked before he could break out in nervous sweat and blow his whole cover, setting her glass down and leaning towards him again. 

"Let's just say, I make some very important 'Cons very happy. And they like to keep me content in return..." Her hand was back on his hip, sliding down his thigh and probing the warm air around his codpiece.

"But I don't like to talk about the boyfriends while I'm working."

 _'Not even when one of them is right outside this room?'_ passed through Bumblebee's processor briefly, but the last thing on it was Starscream as it got harder and harder to keep his panel closed. Her palm closed over it and squeezed gently, coaxing a moan from the vocaliser that came slow past the high-grade lining his throat. His optics fluttered and struggled to stay open- one klick she was kneading at his covered spike, the next she was sliding her chestplate clasps open. 

It was so easy for an enemy to barge in and kill him where he sat like this, breaking every rule of vigilence he'd had drilled into him during his training, but it was even easier to coast himself into a desperaterly overdue overload. 

He figured that made it worth the risk.


	5. Chapter 5

When Starscream finally got a glimpse of the mech he was supposed to be watching like a halogen hawk, he was disappearing into Airachnid's little velvet cave. Primus, she insisted on making his job difficult every step of the way. For all he knew she just felt like getting a quick frag out of the poor guy before popping his helm off with no-one around to watch them. 

Which meant Starscream would be missing out on the best part of tracking Autobot spies- the look on their faces when they realised they'd been found out. Typical. 

The bartender gave him a cautious look when he ordered yet another rockshot to drown himself in, but slid one across anyway when he waved enough credits in front of his face. Nevermind that the troglodyte didn't even recognise him as the second-in-command of the whole Decepticons, let alone commander in chief of the whole fragging city. 

He didn't deserve this. If anything _he_ should have been the one with a gorgeous femme peeling his armour off back there. If _he_ went skulking around in Autobot territory he certainly wouldn't have been rewarded for being as conspicuous as possible. By the Pit, he'd be lucky to escape from it with his wings intact!

Maybe this was a test set up by Megatron just to annoy him. There was no Autobot spy- he was just a random drone or some other Decepticon shipped over to Kaon for the express purpose of ruining Starscream's entire evening. He and Airachnid were probably laughing at him as he sat swilling his self pity around. 

Laughing _and_ fragging at the same time. By Primus, he was pathetic. 

He blinked down at the empty glass. He didn't remember drinking any of it. He didn't remember a lot of what happened after leaving Airachnid's company...

He'd be better after another drink.

"Sir, don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender gave a sidelong glance to the stack of other empty glasses Starscream had accumulated over the evening, but the Seeker didn't seem to notice it. He only snarled and shoved the glass in his claws aside.

"Do I _look_ like I've had enough?!" In any other bar that might have gotten him thrown out, but this late the barbots more often than not were too weary to give a frag.

This one in particular just shrugged and passed over another rockshot, muttering "It's your funeral." Starscream ignored him, burying his faceplate close to his shot glass and staring over at where Airachnid had made her lair for the rest of the night.

The spider expected him to investigate the mech?

Then _investigate_ he would.

 

**xx**

 

Bumblebee didn't even know glossas could do half of what Airachnid's could, but at least Prowl was right about his assignment being an _educating_ one. He could taste faint traces of high-grade on her lips and feel the sharpness of her fangs, but most of all he felt was the overwhelming power she had over him. He was drunk on more than just Galactica- he was high on her pleasure and completely, unashamedly under her control. 

Having her so far down between his legs with her chestplates out didn't hurt his new found subservience either. 

"I'm your first, aren't I, Goldie?" He almost forgot that she was talking to him- 'Goldie' blinked down at her and blushed.

"Was it really that obvious?"

Her laugh was another soft purr against his codpiece- he swore she could feel his spike throbbing stubbornly against the panel, but she wasn't trying to find the release for it just yet. "Don't feel bad, I have a gift for reading mechs that way. You're not shaking as much as most virgins, anyway."

"T-Thanks..." She was starting to tease his armour seams, rubbing along the lines with the points of her claws. Bumblebee tried to forget how sharp they actually were- mental images of dissection were enough to kill even the most intoxicated arousal. Airachnid seemed to sense the sudden tension in his leg cables from how her talons paused, dangerously close to the fragile underside of his codpiece. She glanced up at him, caressing his helm with her eyes. 

"Just relax, baby. I promise you'll _love_ it..." Decepticon or not, Bumblebee couldn't resist the rich silk of her voice. Maybe because he knew he'd love it anyway. 

She'd found her way to his interface release, so there was no going back now. 

Bumblebee didn't have much time to get used to his spike finally being out before it was trapped again between Airachnid's lips- Primus, he was really giving his virginity away to a stripper? He'd never considered the ramifications of letting this happen until now, and it was the worst possible time for it to hit him. He pushed it away, firmly down into the depths of his drunken processor, focusing only on Airachnid now. Her fangs didn't scrape against it like he'd feared, if anything they helped rub the ribs as they slid down her throat. From the first lick he felt like he was going to overload right then, unable to stop a long moan as his hips tried to stay still. Airachnid went slow, either eager to draw this out for as long as possible or curious to see how long he could really last. His spike was barely halfway through her mouth and he was already leaking transfluid straight onto her glossa. She lapped at the slit on his spike head, coaxing even more fluid drops out. Bumblebee didn't know what a femme's valve felt like, but he couldn't imagine it feeling any better than her mouth. He was sinking into his chair, leaning back on a pillow of coolant-drenched pleasure. 

"F-Frag... Airachnid!" Either klicks or hours passed before Bumblebee lost his tenuous control over his spike and it went straight to a climax. With his optics squeezed closed he couldn't see his transfluid filling the femme's mouth, but they did open in time to see her swallowing most of it and licking at any trails on her lips. He hoped the wiggle of her eyeridges meant he lasted longer than she expected. 

"I'm guessing it was good?" she asked, only slightly hoarse from her exertion. Bumblebee couldn't find the strength to speak and used up the last of it nodding. His spike was limp and the Slugfest had finally worn off, it seemed, but he couldn't be bothered shoving his codpiece over it. Airachnid didn't seem in a hurry to cover up either, laying herself across him and drawing a claw gently around his faceplate while her other legs stroked soothingly along his armour. 

"You're such a handsome one, Goldie..." He could have happily listened to nothing but the purr of her voice for hours on end. 

"It's almost a shame I have to do this."

With the purr and weight on his chest gone, Bumblebee only had a few nanoklicks to react before his servos were suddenly stuck to his sides in a glob of... he didn't want to think of what. His legs shortly followed, glued together in the same manner. 

Airachnid brushed her hands at her sides as the weapon ports on her palms powered down, and the fangs were truly out now. They glimmered mockingly at him with not a speck of his transfluid on them, and her optics looked at him more like he was scrap metal than a lover. Her back legs had shifted as well, revealing sharp daggers on their ends while two of them lifted her higher. He didn't even know where her normal legs had disappeared to. 

How did a femme manage to look so damn beautiful when she had no less than four knives pointed at you?

"Call it a bluff, but I'd rather not kill you just now, _scout_ , so listen closely." Her legs allowed her to hover over Bumblebee while her claws threatened to carve into his frozen faceplate.  
"Tell me what I want to know, and you can keep one of your optics."

Well, he was right. Not only was she a Decepticon, she was damn good at her job as well. Bumblebee tried not to be impressed while under imminent threat of blindness.

"So you know I'm an Autobot?" He didn't really need to ask- her calling him a scout confirmed it, but the longer she spent talking the less she spent turning him into an Empurata victim. 

Airachnid would have seen right through his stalling tactic, but she seemed in the mood to humor him. "And I know you've been sent to spy on us. Too bad for you, if you've waited just a few more days you could have caught me _entertaining_ Megatron himself in here." She chuckled at the grimace Bumblebee made underneath her. 

"But onto the gruesome business, now..." Airachnid had started to curl a talon around one of Bumblebee's optic sockets, maneuvering her digit to get at the glowing blue bulb staring frantically all around the room. Oh Primus, this was going to hurt-

There was a scuffle and sound of sharp peds on the floor, and Airachnid abruptly pulled away before Bumblebee could even be thankful for the distraction.  
"Starscream?!"

If the Seeker had been drunk before, now he was absolutely plastered. He could barely aim his rocket right as he slurred a command. "Get away from her, Autobot scum!"

Understandably, Airachnid was furious. "Starscream, you fragging idiot, get out! I'm in the middle of-"

"What, in the middle of riding his spike?" Starscream wildly threw a servo in Bee's direction, not even noticing the webs around his limbs or the fact that he was trying to squirm away. Airachnid did notice though, but the lunge towards him turned into a fall to the ground as Starscream stumbled very ungracefully into her. Wings and legs went sprawling, some of them nicking the webbing encasing Bumblebee's frame. By the time the Cons picked themselves up, Bee had torn his servos away from the mess and was kicking his legs free while crawling for the exit.

"Oh no, you don't!" Starscream declared, not aiming his rocket before firing in what he assumed was the Autobot's direction, and what actually turned out to be the direction of the nightclub's bar.  
In the chaos of very pissed off patrons and club owners, Bumblebee escaped with only a purple-and-teal Seeker femme noting that he was in a hurry. Starscream looked down at his empty servo, as if it was somehow to blame. "He got away."

If looks could kill, Airachnid's would have landed a nuke straight on Starscream's helm. "You don't say?"

Starscream tried to avoid her gaze. "Hey, I'm not the one with the Autobot stink all over me..." As if it somehow made up for failing the only mission they had. 

The drinks were still running thickly through him, though, forcing his vocaliser to speak without leave of his processor. He shifted closer to her first. "Perhaps I could assist in getting rid of that for you?"

In hindsight he should have seen the smack to his helm coming from a mile away before the offending servo slammed into his vision. He was about to actually apologise to Airachnid for it when she dangled a slip of something in front of him. It was quite long.

"And just what is this?"

Airachnid smiled sweetly at him before leaving it on his throbbing codpiece and standing up. "The bill for the bar damages." She heard his cry of deadbeat anguish while she walked away.

 

**xx**

 

"Let me get this crystal clear, Bumblebee. You got in, you saw a clearly branded Decepticon gathering point, and you found _absolutely no intel whatsoever_?" It wasn't like Prowl to repeat things for no reason, so he really was mad. Bumblebee was almost tempted to tell him that the mission wasn't a _complete_ waste, but he knew to expect a court martial rather than a high-five for getting laid by a Decepticon- and surviving.

Prowl scowled at the smile that creeped onto the scout's face. "I'm glad you find it so funny, Bee, because it's wasted the last of our routes into the city!" He slammed a datapad down and rubbed the bridge of his olfactories. 

Bumblebee felt a little offended at Prowl's destitution. He didn't almost die for _nothing_. "Well, I told you they've got a weird... spider femme in there! She shoots webs out her hands and everything!"

"Oh great, information we could have gotten from any battlefield report from the past three decacycles!" Prowl looked on the verge of flipping his datapad-laden table- which would be a shame, considering all the fragile figures he had set up on it. Maybe those were the only thing keeping his anger to a simmer. 

"Starscream being in Kaon... I guess confirmation of his whereabouts is useful. At least we know Megatron isn't sending him out on any independent campaigns." Prowl's thinking aloud was more to make Bee feel better, he suspected, but it worked anyway. "Your debrief's over, Bee. Get some rest and report to the training grounds to resume regular duties next solar cycle."

"Yes, sir." With Prowl's back turned, for once he didn't have to salute him before leaving.

A rest would have been a good idea, if he wasn't certain he'd have spiders crawling all over his dreams.


End file.
